A blog to talk about my major obsessions – the craft of writing, going to book clubs, and reading. Always reading.

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Lawrence Block

As everyone knows, there are few greater things in life than spending time in a good bookshop. And whilst I’m a huge fan of Waterstones, and very happy that they are showing a profit, for me there is no greater pleasure than spending time and some hard-earned than in an independent bookshop. Readers of this blog will know that I am something of a crime fiction fiend. I try to pick up crime novels whenever I can (especially older, rare tomes) and have spent many an hour rummaging through bookshelves looking for yellowed copies of the books of my pulp heroes. I’m on the constant lookout for independent bookshops to go to, and thanks to following a number of American crime writers on Twitter, my attention was drawn to The Mysterious Bookshop, a crime hangout in New York and the oldest crime and mystery-specific bookstore on the planet. Luckily I recently had a family occasion in that very city, so what better way to wile away an afternoon than with a visit…

A fantasy of mine, whenever I get my own house, is to indulge in some decent bookshelves. Something like the ones in the Mysterious, if dreams could come true. Floor-to-ceiling shelves covering three walls of the shop. Man oh man. And to navigate them, those ladders that run on wheels that scooted across the carpet as I spotted a high-up section of Jim Thompson paperbacks. I think I probably died and went to heaven within seconds of stepping through the door. The breadth of their inventory was better than anything I’ve ever seen. The complete Travis McGee novels of John D. Macdonald. Extensive copies of his namesake Ross’s Lew Archer novels. The aforementioned Thompson. A massive section devoted to Sherlock Holmes. Reams of used and vintage titles, too. Plus plenty of rare editions and signed copies, including a signed copy of Elmore Leonard’s Freaky Deaky (probably my favourite of the great man’s works) for $35. I debated buying it for ages, picking the book off the shelf and putting it back again more than once. In the end I decided not to. It’s a decision I’m still not sure was the right one.

So what did I purchase in the end? Even after turning down the Leonard, I’m still really happy with my choices. I’m on a mission to purchase all the Matt Scudder novels of Lawrence Block, and I picked up a signed copy of A Long Line Of Dead Men for the scarcely believable price of $5. I didn’t actually know it was signed until I left the shop either so that was a nice surprise! I also filled a gap in my James Crumley collection with Bordersnakes, which brings his two protagonists Sughrue and Milodragovitch together for one wild ride. Lastly I bought a biography of Raymond Chandler which I am halfway through and very much enjoying.

Now I could probably have bought all these books on Amazon or eBay. But the experience of spending time in a great bookshop, with knowledgeable staff and no pressure to leave, is one of the great joys in life. Its these important touches that make the Mysterious so good. You feel amongst like-minded friends as soon as you walk in the door. And they are a big player in the scene, too. Tons of authors do readings and book launches there (including Block, the day after I flew home…sob!) and some writers produce exclusive material directly for the store. Indeed, they give a free short story away to customers every Christmas, with the store having to feature in the story somehow. A bit of extra publicity, and a unique tale to read on the subway home. This years story was by Laura Lippman and it’s great. Seriously, what more could you want?

I know this sounds like I’ve been paid by them to say all this, so I’ll just say that if you’re a book lover and find yourself in Manhattan, go there and experience it for yourself. You won’t be disappointed.

I never feel that I have truly settled in a new place until I’ve found myself a library that I can call home. A local pub and a good library are the two most important things to sort out when you move, for stimulation of mind and body!

The library where I grew up in the UK is nothing special to look at – a nondescript shell wedged beside a busy doctors surgery and overlooking Sainsbury’s car park. But I probably spent more of my formative years in there than I did at school.

This undoubtedly sounds sad but every time I walk into a library I have a little flutter of excitement in my stomach. For me its anticipation that I could stumble across a book that changes my life. OK, maybe that’s a bit strong, but in the past I’ve walked out of a library with a book that, once read, I don’t know how I ever survived without.

My strongest feeling of this was when I was first getting into reading crime in my late teens. I had grown tired of horror novels and wanted a change of scenery. I was browsing one of the paperback carousels (you know, the ones that have that annoying but strangely comforting squeak when you turn them) and for no apparent reason I was drawn to a book called Sins of the Fathers. I had a look at the blurb, thought the book sounded reasonable and got it out. By chance, it happened to be the first in a series.

Within 24 hours I had devoured the book and a whole new world had opened up in front of me. If you don’t know, the author of the book is Lawrence Block, and Sins of the Fathers was the first in the Matt Scudder series of private detective novels. So there was the rest of the series to get through, which I did in about a year (15 books in total then, with 3 more published since). And it was an absolute joy from start to finish. I lived and breathed Matt Scudder for that whole time, walking the New York streets, hitting the bars, confronting the bad guys, all that. I realise now that the underlying sadness and pathos is what gives the series such strength and such a powerful narrative voice. Pure beauty.

Anyway, that pleasure all came from that random moment in the library all those years ago. And I liked the fact that sometimes the next book in the series was out on loan or had to be ordered from another library – it wasn’t frustrating, it was fun being on tenterhooks for a few days, wondering where Scudder was going to go next. Now you could just buy the book cheaply on Amazon but there was something about having to wait, like it was worth something extra by being patient.

So, once I moved here I hunted down the local library straightaway. And Fitzroy Library is a joy, housed at the rear of the beautiful Town Hall building. When I first joined up (always free of course, all that knowledge and excitement and it costs nothing) I struck up a conversation with the library assistant, who asked me about the state of libraries in the UK.
‘Good,’ I said,’but unfortunately whenever councils want to cut services to save money they always go after libraries.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, it’s similar here. But the local people won’t stand for it, so whenever we’re threatened with cutbacks, in the end nothing happens.’

Quite right too. Libraries are one of the great gifts of life and should be treasured. And I’m proud that I live somewhere that respects that. So hopefully others can experience those joyful moments that helped to shape my life.